Heart of Gold, Don't Let Them Take It From You
by ithaswhatitisnt
Summary: "He would become a great knight, potentially find a beautiful maiden to serve, and die on the battlefield, buried with full honors. His reality was shaping up to be a vaporous wasteland with little to no life." A knight discovers just how easy it is to lose track of morality, especially with a dark maiden at his side.
1. Prologue: Immolation

So this is completely new territory for me: my best friend wanted me to help him write a story, and he wanted it to be about Demon's Souls. We came up with a name for the nameless protagonist (Godric), and we have an idea for the plot all the way through. No spoilers, though! :D His version, the exact same text as mine, can be found on deviantART under the username "Souledge-master". He and I do not own Demon's Souls; we only own our laptops and our imaginations.

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He couldn't remember the last time he had taken a rest. The long days spent at the knight's academy seemed like a paradise compared to the foggy terrain he now faced. His horse was exhausted, he had no food left, and his throat was parched. Godric wondered how long it would take before he reached a relatively-cheap merchant's table. Perhaps he would succumb to his hunger first, if the horse didn't drop dead.

Godric was approaching Boletaria rapidly, and his intended destination was supposed to be the place where dreams were fulfilled. He would become a great knight, potentially find a beautiful maiden to serve, and die on the battlefield, buried with full honors. His reality was shaping up to be a vaporous wasteland with little to no life.

 _Obviously not the life I imagined_ , he thought sourly. His horse was near to collapsing and he himself wasn't faring much better. All Godric needed was a little bit of crescent moon grass and he would be good as new. Crescent moon grass was infused with healing magic, a remnant from when King Allant rediscovered the Soul Arts.

As he trotted along on his steed, Godric reflected on why he was headed to Boletaria. His advisors had explained that Boletaria possessed some of the most malicious demons in the land. Since the return of the Soul Arts, a ghastly vapor was settling over the land, and only the most stout-hearted of knights and mages would ever consider going to Boletaria. 'It is too dangerous for those not fully committed to their duties,' the advisors had warned. Godric felt that he was more than committed to his task and so he set forth for Boletaria, his entire life on his back and the biggest dream in his heart.

A quick movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention, and Godric saw a dog drunkenly stumbling from out of the fog. Once free of the noxious cloud, the dog still continued on in a daze, and Godric was intrigued. He nudged his horse to go on faster, anxious to see the effects of the fog firsthand. The skeleton of a gate's shadow appeared, and Godric spurred his horse into a gallop.

Godric was about to cross into the town gates when a large caravan passed him, leaving the town.

"Wares!" a raspy voice was screaming. "We have cheap wares! Medicine, food! Whatever you need, we have it!" Godric wheeled his horse around to trot after the caravan.

"Good merchants! Do you have some crescent moon grass?" Godric called, dismounting from his horse, and facing the sellers. There were only a couple of them, older men wrapped in hand-me-down clothes.

"We do," answered the largest of the merchants, a rotund man missing a couple teeth. "That'll be 150 souls."

" _Souls_?" Godric parroted. "Sir, I don't know what currency you speak of. I have no money on me. The only thing I have of worth is my horse." The merchant glanced at his comrades before turning back to the young knight.

"Since you don't speak the language of souls, how about 150 copper pieces?"

"I'm telling you, I have no money!" Godric insisted. He gathered his meager belongings from the back of the saddle and gestured to the horse. "Go ahead and take the horse." The skinniest merchant leaned forward to grab the reins, and the rotund merchant passed a small parcel into Godric's hands.

"Here you go, lad," the merchant told him. "Six roots, and use them well." The caravan began to move again, Godric left standing with his entire life on his back and what he hoped to be his eventual salvation in his hands.

"Better start walking, then," he told himself. He heard the echo of laughter coming from the direction of the caravan, and Godric smiled.

"I made someone's day. A perfect start to my new life," he said, continuing his hike into Boletaria.

The town was eerie. Entire buildings were abandoned, and the only movement came from an occasional stray wandering about, no doubt wondering where its owner had gone. Godric had been promised Boletaria would be the land of milk and honey for a knight, but he was starting to think that his advisors at the knight academy had been drunk out of their skulls. Cumulus cloud formations of fog passed through the town around Godric's head, and a chill went down his spine. There was no one else in the town.

A courtyard soon became visible, and Godric went to the courtyard, positive it would lead to finding another living being. The haze grew thicker as he entered the courtyard, but he was confident soon another person would appear. To his amazement, he heard footfalls slightly behind him. The presence did not feel friendly, and he turned, sword extended as he was taught, to defend himself.

He had heard rumors about the fog…that it was liable to cause insanity. People who entered the fog often exited as a shell of their former selves, hell-bent on causing destruction to ease their madness. Godric had listened to a lecture from a man said to have overcome the insanity, and he had described it as " _…not being able to come back to myself…my real soul was lost in the fog"_. The talk had made Godric afraid, but not so afraid he would stay away from Boletaria. Knights were responsible for swallowing fear and persevering, no matter the circumstances.

A man tottered toward Godric from the fog, and the young knight swallowed once to attempt to quell his fear. This was one of the simplest enemies he could have encountered, or so the advisors at the knight academy told him. The slave infantry of the Boletarian Army, called dredglings, were used as cannon fodder to allow the more trained and valuable soldiers to move in. The lack of training was clear as the creature simply rushed him, raising its broken blade in the air as it released out a loud, agonizing moan. Its face was half covered by a wooden helmet that looked like it was made out of a bucket, and a simple plank shield was hanging from its arm haphazardly as it rushed like a beheaded chicken at him. A simple thrust forward later, and the dredgling was dispatched, now like the analogy in more than just metaphor. Godric stared at the being he had just killed, stunned at how seemingly easy it was to not think about the act of killing.

More dredglings entered the courtyard in the opposite direction from where the first creature had come. His sword at the ready, Godric brought his shield up defensively, as he was taught at the academy. Even if the enemy was untrained, a group could easily overwhelm an unready opponent. They came at him as one, their rusted blades flailing. They broke formation quickly, with one creature speeding ahead at Godric, allowing him to block the attack, and redirect him to the side. Godric took the opportunity to dash forward and slash diagonally through one of the attacker's chests. The blade easily sliced through the cloth shirt and entered the flesh as though Godric were slicing a thin piece of meat. Blood welled up and ran as the dredgling fell to the ground.

Godric let himself sink into his training, imagining these beings as the dummies he had practiced on so many times over the years at the academy. Godric blocked, stabbed, sliced, and dodged his way through the crowd of dredglings, each one seeming to fall even more quickly than the last. Yet, despite his imagination, he couldn't ignore the blood on the ground and his blade, nor could he ignore the groans of pain from the mindless drones as they fell. He quashed down the sick feeling rising up in his stomach as he drove his blade through the last one. The dredgling fell to the ground wordlessly before Godric pulled his blade out.

Once all the dredglings were eliminated, Godric felt a sense of safety come over him for a brief second before he heard a massive crunch coming from behind him. He turned to see the roof and top half of a house be demolished right before his eyes. Godric instinctively took up his knight's stance, sword raised, ready to take on whatever sight came before him. His sword arm fell, however, when he saw the abomination that was approaching him.

A gigantic, humanoid demon approached Godric, its large belly swaying as it tottered toward him. Three glowing gold eye sockets seemed to taunt Godric as it sauntered forward casually, a hungry look on its face. Clutched in one gigantic clawed paw was an oversized blunt axe. Godric had been told to expect to meet demons on his journey, but he had never expected to meet a demon so large as to completely obscure his field of vision. Godric only came up to the demon's calf, and despite having a good sword, Godric did not think he would be able to take on the demon successfully. That didn't mean he couldn't try. Godric could not keep his sense of knight's honor if he backed away from this fight. Adjusting his sword in his hands, Godric took his battle stance once more…

And was promptly knocked off his feet by one fell swoop of the blunt axe. The demon roared, a terrifying, inhuman roar, and Godric panted shallowly to will himself to get back up. The wind got knocked out of Godric's lungs, and he could feel where the cobblestone beneath him had scraped the hell out of his back. He had been told to expect the taste of copper during the heat of battle, but when his mouth became flooded with copper, he began to panic. There wasn't supposed to be _this much_ copper. The demon continued stomping along its merry way, satisfied with its work and ignoring the insignificant human sprawled lifelessly on the ground. Godric felt it was best just to wait. Breathing was becoming more difficult, and the advisors had cautioned that should any knight have trouble breathing, it was better just to wait for the feeling to pass. Godric didn't think the feeling was going to pass.

Godric couldn't remember much except a white, blinding light that seemed to call to him, and he ambled toward it gratefully. The white light would make breathing easier. Wait…the instructors had told him _not_ to go toward the light. Once he entered the light, he would never return to what he knew. But Godric couldn't think about that now. He wanted to go…towards… _a girl_? There was a female voice calling to him.

" _Brave, heroic knight…thou must cometh…_ _ **Godric**_ _…"_ Godric inched closer to the light, and he was engulfed by the blinding white light.

Before long, Godric found himself lying on stones, surrounded by a slightly suffocating darkness. His eyes adjusted, finding a dim candle and latching onto the sight. A figure materialized behind the candle, and the figure became a young woman, her hand holding the staff aloft. The candle was attached to the end of the staff, and she lowered it toward him.

"Greetings," she whispered, leaning down to where he could hear her better. "Welcome to the Nexus, brave knight." He craned his head to get a better glimpse of who was speaking to him and had to work hard not to recoil when he saw her eyes were covered in pale wax.

"Who…who are you?" he stammered. She straightened up, a wan smile on her lips, and that was as far as he got before drifting into unconsciousness.

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A bit of a cliche for the end, but it will pick up from there, we promise! Please review! :D


	2. Chapter 1

Updates will be slow, but thank you so much for patience! Please review!

My writing partner and I do not own Demon's Souls.

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When Godric came to, his chest ached. His hands smoothed over his chest, startled to find it intact, yet intangible. His fingers, too, were incorporeal, unable to touch even the stone floor he woke up upon. His eyes were intact, able to pick up the slight glow of candles and a strange blue illumination he could not place a name to.

A cavernous room loomed before him, essentially empty. However, he could sense the presence of other bodies nearby. They were few, but just as alive as he.

 _Alive, but like a ghost_ , he thought miserably. As the word crossed his mind, a rush of cold swept over him. A whisper flew to his ears: " _Welcome, brave knight. I hopest thou will like it here._ " As quickly as the voice came, it left, and a brief flash of memory struck him: he had heard this voice before. A female, one with a candle and a weary smile.

The room was silent. Aside from the quiet hum of his breathing, he may as well have been in a tomb.

 _That's where I was, essentially_ , Godric recalled. He remembered being thrown across a courtyard like a ragdoll, and a pain gripping his entire body. He had been so sure the end was near, he had surrendered his thoughts to God.

 _This is it_ , he had imagined. But now he was transparent, stuck in some sort of wide-open hollow with a few other bodies. Had they come the same way he had come? Was this purgatory? And if so, who was coming to collect him?

His eyes adjusted to the dark, finally enabling him to make out shapes in the pitch black. Godric was drawn to two figures, sitting nearly shoulder to shoulder. One was surrounded by a plethora of mismatched objects while the other sat, just plainly waiting. Blacksmithing tools enclosed him, and his hands hovered over the tools, almost as if he were anticipating an attack. On Godric's other side, there stretched a set of stairs, and a solitary man sat perched on the third step. His head was cradled in his hands, not in despair, but as though he were taking a small nap.

A female caught his attention. She sat between two pillars, her hands clasped in prayer and her lips muttering feverishly. Her robes were plain, and she had a pickaxe at her feet, positioned so she could grasp it for protection.

Godric rose to his feet shakily, and realized the blue glow he had picked up on was immediately below him. Under his feet was an enormous, intricate glyph. It was pulsing with blue power, and below that, a gaping void.

Shakily, Godric tottered forward, heading for the man on the steps. Perhaps, since he was unarmed, he would be more willing to help Godric figure out what this place was. However, as Godric came closer, the man's head shot up. His face was etched into despair, and his eyes were wide with fear as Godric approached him.

"Hello!" Godric said cheerfully, trying to keep calm and make the best of the situation. When the man replied, his voice was as dead as the environment.

"Ah, fresh blood," he said. "Tell me, where are you from?" Godric straightened up, his chest puffed out with pride despite the ache.

"I'm a newly minted knight from the east! I came to Boletaria because I wanted to slay demons!"

"Did you?" The man began to snicker. "And tell me, _brave knight_ , how many demons have you slain?" Godric flushed behind his helmet, his chest visibly deflating.

"None," he said ashamedly. "I was in a fierce battle with one when I ended up here." The man was nodding.

"A fierce battle, I'm sure. I'm Lebannen, by the way. I was a knight, too. Who are you?"

"Godric. I grew up in the Iuflilian east and attended the knight's academy there."

"I see. And did your academy tell you about what would happen if you would fail in your quest?" Lebannen snapped. Godric opened his mouth to reply, but he then realized that he _didn't_ know what would happen if failure were to occur. The thought hadn't come to him.

"If you fail, you die. Or," Lebannen paused for effect, "you could end up in this godforsaken place."

"But what _is_ this place?" Godric asked, and Lebannen snorted.

"Take off your damn gauntlet, then, and see what's been done!"

Wearily, Godric pulled off his right gauntlet to see a ring bound on his index finger. The ring was silver, inscribed with runes, and snug on his finger. Eyes widening, Godric began to anxiously tug at the ring to pull it off. Lebannen broke out in a round of merry laughter, and Godric angrily swung his gaze toward the older man.

"What's so funny?"

"If you want that ring off, you'll have to cut your finger off!" he choked out, and Godric's eyes widened even further in horror.

"That's not funny." Godric whimpered out.

"On the contrary." Lebannen grinned maliciously. "This is the most fun I've had in _months_!" Godric felt assaulted by the older man's laughter. A young knight was in trouble and afraid, and all the older man could do was _laugh hysterically_?

"Look, boy," Lebannen said, straightening up and stifling his laughter, "I haven't killed a demon, either. They are damn near invincible, and I, for one, am not going to go out and risk my neck for some glory. Why don't you just give up, take a seat next to me, and we'll wait out eternity together?" When Godric didn't move, Lebannen's eyes narrowed. "Or, if you'd really rather not, there is a way out." He pointed at arched stones behind him, sloping up towards the center of the room.

"These are called archstones. When you enter one of them, you can be transported out of here. But that ring on your finger, well…it'll force you back here. You'll come back when you die and _die and die and die and_ …" Godric pointed to one archstone at the top of the stairs, riddled with cracks and age, and cut off the older man in his rant.

"What about that one? Can I use it if it's all cracked?" Lebannen lunged for Godric, and Godric dodged him easily. Lebannen turned to face Godric, a madness radiating from him.

"Of course you can't, you daft bastard. Those have been completely taken over by the demons, and you don't want to have anything to do with them. Now… _sit down_. Don't be stupid!" At that moment, a shout came from the across the room: "Shut the hell up! Some of us are trying to work over here!"

"Damn Boldwin," Lebannen muttered under his breath. "He wouldn't know an honest day's work if it bit him on the arse." The more time Godric spent with Lebannen, the less he liked the man, and he desperately wanted to get out of Lebannen's way. Thankfully, the older knight seemed to feel the same way, and he waved a dismissive hand in Godric's direction.

"Go bother one of the other ones." With that, Godric took his leave of Lebannen. He wandered toward the shout he had heard before, the one that had been able to silence Lebannen with a single command. An authoritative figure would be just the thing to restore Godric's confidence while stuck in this strange place.

A very old, bespectacled man was seated next to a bedraggled younger man. They didn't appear to be enemies, but they didn't seem to be friends, either. Godric strolled toward the older man, wincing at the rusted sounds his armor was making.

"Excuse me, gentlemen?" Godric inquired, and both men looked his way. "Could one of you possibly repair my armor?"

"That'd be me, boy," the older one barked. "How many souls are you offering?"

"Um…souls?" Godric was befuddled. Not this soul stuff again…he had no idea how people could talk about using souls as if they were currency.

"Yeah, souls," parroted the older one. "You have several souls already, so don't you be telling me you don't have any to trade for work. And take off your armor, I can't work on it with you in it!"

"How many souls do I have, sir?"

"A fairly decent number, from what I can see. Give me your armor and I'll see what the right price can be."

"Till then, you're welcome to look at my stock," the bedraggled man piped up. Godric moved toward the younger man and glanced over his piles of what appeared to be junk at first glance. Upon closer inspection, there were used weapons, untouched bags of food, and some strange iridescent stones.

"I'm Thomas, by the way," the man said. "What's your name?" He sounded like the epitome of friendliness, and Godric sighed in relief.

"I'm Godric," Godric answered. "Who's the grumpy fellow working on my armor?"

"That's Boldwin," Thomas said. "Don't let him scare you, he's just worried about his brother is all." Thomas leaned in closer and cupped his hands around his mouth. "Have you seen… _the candle lady_?" he whispered conspiratorially.

"The who?" Godric asked. The second the words left his mouth, he thought he knew. The candle lady had to be the same woman he had seen, the woman who had welcomed him to this strange building. "Oh, yes, I've seen her. She had wax over her eyes."

"Did she? I couldn't tell!" Thomas chuckled to himself. "She's a right nice one, she is. Very kind, and always lights and snuffs the candles at the right time." Godric didn't know if Thomas was describing the same woman he had seen; to Godric, she had seemed slightly cold and uninviting. Thomas was describing the woman as a lovely caregiver, and that didn't seem right to Godric.

Behind Thomas's laughter, there was a sad glint in his eyes that worried Godric, and so Godric asked:

"Is there something wrong, Thomas?" The older man ceased his laughter, a melancholy falling over him.

"It's my wife and daughter," he explained. "I'm waiting for them. I'm waiting so I can leave here and go retrieve them." Godric frowned slightly. Thomas looked weak; he didn't look like he could hold his own against demons. But still…a man had to have his wife and daughter. It wasn't right to keep them separated.

"I'll tell you what," Godric said, kneeling to meet Thomas eye-to-eye, "I'll bring back your wife and daughter, since you appear to be injured." Thomas reached for Godric's hands, pumping them enthusiastically.

"Thank you, Godric, _thank you_!" Thomas's eyes widened before fresh tears began to rivulet down his sunken cheeks. "I'll wait for you right here. Oh!" He leapt up, more spry than Godric would have believed possible, and reached for one of the glowing stones Godric had noticed earlier. He handed the stone to Godric, who stared at the object in bewilderment.

"This is an Augite of Souls," Thomas explained. "It allows you to keep track of how many souls you have, and will change color according to what souls are present in the area." An almost-holy white emanated from the augite, meaning only pure souls were in the area, and Godric smiled.

"Thank you. I'm sure this will be very useful," Godric said, and Thomas laughed.

"You'll be using it more than you know!"

Since Boldwin was busy at work making minor repairs to Godric's armor, Godric decided to pass the time by chatting with Thomas. He learned what his wife and daughter looked like, and how to identify them quickly.

"My daughter has a jade hairpin. My wife and I saved for that for well over a year so she could look her best, and she has worn it every day since." His eyes closed in remembrance, and Godric's heart swelled at the tender moment. The two were interrupted by a shout from Boldwin.

"Oi! Your armor's all repaired. That'll be 300 souls," Boldwin said, and Godric allowed the correct amount of souls to flow to Boldwin's augite, and the man smiled. "Thanks, lad."

With his armor newly repaired, Godric waved cheerily to Thomas and Boldwin before setting off toward the archstone. Lebannen perched in front of the archstone Godric wanted, and looked up in amusement as the younger knight approached.

"Did you finally work up the courage to come speak to me again?" he spat, and Godric shook his head.

"I just want to pass through the archstone," Godric said pleadingly. To his surprise, Lebannen moved over to allow him clear passage to the archstone.

"Go ahead. You're young, you're stupid, and you'll just end up back here," Lebannen said. "See if I care." Lebannen turned away, becoming reabsorbed in his own thoughts. Godric advanced toward the archstone, reading the script on the bottom: " _Archstone of the Small King_ ".

 _Here goes nothing_ , Godric thought. Inhaling deeply, he touched his ring to the center of the stone and was whisked away. Everything went black, and Godric's thoughts careened every which way:

 _What have I done?_

 _Where will I go?_

He landed in front of what he thought was the Boletarian Palace. It looked eerily similar to images he had seen in textbooks but he couldn't be sure. A broken fountain lay in front of him and the stairway leading to the portcullis was in shambles, hosting many small fires.

If this was Boletaria, where were all the demons? Where was the scourge he had trained for so long to vanquish?

As if on cue, a sound like thunder echoed overhead and grew closer to him. The thunderous sound was soon replaced by the flapping of gigantic wings, and a roar announced the arrival of a creature that made Godric's adrenaline spike.

A red, spiky head flew right at Godric, its wings fully extended and its eyes analyzing the puny human before him. Its mouth was crammed full of dredglings, and while Godric knew logically, he should be afraid, he wasn't. Fighting with a dragon – even killing one – would be a good way to restore his honor lost from the first fight before landing in the Nexus.

The dragon made a brief snap at Godric before circling around to reposition itself; the beast flew off behind some of the taller turrets. Godric drew his sword and prepared to fight, knowing the dragon would be back any second.

But the dragon didn't return. Even when Godric was out in the open, ready for the taking, the dragon didn't take up the knight on his offer. Eventually, Godric grew tired and began yelling at the dragon.

"Come back here and fight me!" Godric demanded. "I became a knight so I could fight and damn it, _I will fight something_!" The dragon didn't return, and Godric grew sadder.

"Fine, I'll just leave! Run away, coward!" Still, the dragon didn't answer, and Godric marched forward, determined to find a fight somewhere in the palace. He headed toward the stairs, making his way up toward his destiny.


End file.
